Like Flint

All these years I’ve chipped
words from living quarry,
honed bright, unstained
instruments sharp enough
to pierce calcified hearts.

I’ve made a bow with spring,
arrow shafts from what straight
sticks I could find.
I’ve sought guidance
for the hunt.

My face is set,
bolts ready to fly and scatter
encompassing sparks.
I will not be ashamed.
Not anymore.

• Read more of my poetry at www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry

• Contact me at merrijane.rice@gmail.com